


Someone To Watch Over Me

by HolyCatsAndRabbits



Series: Guardian Angel [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, M/M, Possessive Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Rescues, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Uniform Fetish, completely consensual demonic temptation, fantasies, sexual fantasies, sexual role plays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 22:51:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21126566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyCatsAndRabbits/pseuds/HolyCatsAndRabbits
Summary: Crowley’s dreams (and presumably ours) come true when he realizes Aziraphale has a rescue kink.This is the second of 3 small follow-up pieces to "Stranger in Paradise." It follows "Nice Work if You Can Get It." But it can work as a stand-alone fic as well."There's a somebody I'm longin' to seeI hope that he, turns out to beSomeone who'll watch over meI'm a little lamb who's lost in the woodI know I could, always be goodTo one who'll watch over me"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes on this series:
> 
> "Stranger is Paradise" is my version of how Aziraphale and Crowley finally got together, after the show’s events ended. 
> 
> Series info: The TV show is canon except that 1) Aziraphale is the Angel of Compassion; and 2) when angels and demons touch, the lower-ranking one bursts into flames (Hellfire for angels or Heavenfire for demons). Aziraphale outranks Crowley, being a Principality, but Aziraphale’s touch doesn’t harm him, and in fact, Aziraphale can heal Crowley if he is injured.
> 
> Titles of these last 3 fics are from Gershwin songs. ["Someone To Watch Over Me" sung by Ella Fitzgerald](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gDhF-PsDuCw).  
[Lyrics](https://genius.com/Ella-fitzgerald-someone-to-watch-over-me-lyrics)
> 
> And as always, if anyone wants to do any art of my fics, I would love it!  
EDIT: I linked to the site I used for the Revolutionary War uniforms in the end notes.

**1777 AD**

**Brandywine Creek, Pennsylvania, United States**

Aziraphale had to take in Crowley’s appearance with several separate looks, because the angel feared he might do something quite embarrassing otherwise, like sit down on the muddy ground and not remember how to get up again.

_ What did you expect? _ he asked himself. _ You’re in the middle of a war, of course he’s _ _ going to be wearing a uniform. _

First look: black boots, white breeches that hugged his legs. Next: white shirt and vest under a blue coat, broad in the shoulders and trim at the waist. Third look: Crowley wore no wig, his scarlet hair caught back in a queue beneath a black hat. Gold on his shoulders, and a sash across his waist—of course, Crowley had made himself an officer.

_ Oh, good Lord. _

Aziraphale finally trained his gaze on Crowley’s face, where of course, he found anger. Aziraphale was quite used to that, though. Before Crowley could get into his usual lecture, Aziraphale spoke up. “Can you please take these to the hospital tents?”

_ These _ were a group of soldiers wearing British red. Like Crowley, Aziraphale was in Continental blue, but the angel’s uniform marked him as a chaplain. He was ministering to a mixed group of wounded from both armies, and it really was going to be so much easier to help them all now that he had Crowley’s assistance.

Crowley, of course, was not planning to assist. The demon stalked closer to Aziraphale. The air was so full of shouts and shots that it was hard to hear anything. Fog, smoke, and growing darkness competed with each other to cloak the battle, so Crowley had to come very near. “I don’t know how in Heaven you have not been shot yet, angel,” he growled, “when you insist on running about at the _ front _, but I am not leaving you to—”

“I’m not going until they’re safe,” Aziraphale said stubbornly.

Crowley’s eyes were covered by his dark glasses, but Aziraphale could read the demon’s expression with ease. Crowley was wondering what would be faster—rescuing an unwilling angel or following Aziraphale’s requests and then getting his cooperation. Crowley literally snarled at him in frustration, but with a snap of his fingers, his uniform had turned red—giving the poor angel another sight that was going to haunt him—and with another snap, he had disappeared, along with all the other redcoats that Aziraphale had gathered together.

It took Crowley five minutes to return. In that time, Aziraphale had saved those wounded in the blue uniforms. But then he’d found another clutch of British soldiers with blood soaking into their already red coats and he couldn’t leave them either.

“Aziraphale, you cannot rescue the whole of both armies!” Crowley shouted, and Aziraphale knew Crowley wasn’t yelling just because it was so hard to hear. But of course, as always happened, Crowley softened. It was beautifully ironic how much the angel could rely on the demon to be kind to him. “These are the last ones,” Crowley ordered, strict as any commanding officer, but with a little less heat to his voice now.

Aziraphale nodded. Together they miracled themselves and the soldiers behind the red lines, seeing them to the medical tents. It was only then that Aziraphale realized that he’d forgotten something.

“Continental soldier!” a man cried, and Aziraphale looked down to see himself still wearing a blue uniform. He’d been switching back and forth all day between red and blue, but he’d neglected to do it this time.

The redcoat who had yelled went to grab Aziraphale’s arm, but suddenly his wrist was seized and he was twisted away before Aziraphale could even track what had happened. Crowley gave the man a shove, letting go of his arm, and the man nearly fell. 

“I will deal with him!” Crowley ordered, the demon projecting an effortless authority as he stood in between the angel and the British army.

The man managed to nod. “Yes, sir,” he gasped out.

Aziraphale’s mouth had gone quite dry. That was probably good, because if he’d been able to speak, he would probably have said something that started with _ My love _ and ended with _ anything you want. _

But Crowley turned and grabbed Aziraphale’s upper arms just as strongly as he had the other soldier, and Aziraphale found himself being marched away from the hospital tents and into the woods. Once they were out of sight, Crowley let go of him with a growl.

Aziraphale wasn’t frightened, of course, but there were a few other emotions in play. Sadness and regret that he’d made Crowley angry. Frustration and grief over the whole war. And a nearly overwhelming, burning desire for Crowley to grab him again and not let go. And not even necessarily to follow it with sexual favors, although that would definitely be the ideal outcome, but simply to hold onto Aziraphale, just for one moment.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around himself and said quietly, “Thank you.”

Crowley was trying to keep his cool, but Aziraphale could see that it was a struggle for him. “You _ do _realize how little help you will be to them if you get discorporated.” When Aziraphale didn’t answer, Crowley came close again, crowding Aziraphale back against a tree, and the angel’s breath started to come a little shallower. 

In the red uniform, Crowley’s waist sash was gone, but the officer’s gold and silver lace remained on his shoulders. He’d looked elegant in blue. The red was so much more his color, the same scarlet as the hair that God Herself had chosen for his corporation. The uniform flattered the demon so much that he seemed to be Temptation itself. Which, in some manner of speaking, of course, Crowley always was.

But Crowley wasn’t pinning Aziraphale against a tree in order to tempt him—not that there would be much more tempting needed, Aziraphale at this moment was pretty much at the line of surrender—no, Crowley was going to lecture him. His voice was quiet, but there was a painful, burning tone to it. “Angel, we’ve talked about this, this is a _ war zone _ and we said that _ war zones _ were far too dangerous. You didn’t even tell me you were going to do this, I had to—”

Aziraphale never knew quite how to pacify the demon in this kind of situation, so he didn’t try. “It’s my calling to—”

Crowley growled at him. “I don’t care if you are the Angel of Compassion, you can’t fix this!” He broke off, looking suddenly regretful. “Let’s find you another place, all right? They need you everywhere.” He groaned in irritation at his own insensitive words again. “Fuck.” His hands descended to gently grasp Aziraphale’s arms, suddenly holding him once more. Aziraphale shivered with the touch, and it didn’t help when Crowley asked softly, “Angel, please, for me? I have important things to do, and I can’t do them if I’m over here in the Colonies.”

“Important demonic things to do?” Aziraphale managed to ask, choosing to accept the lie.

Crowley looked relieved. “Yes! Exactly. So show me a little of that compassion, will you? I deserve it after—” For some reason, Crowley’s cheeks suddenly blazed with heat. He quickly dropped his grip on Aziraphale’s arms.

“I suppose you do,” the angel answered, with a little confusion.

Crowley moved away from him, taking off his black hat and running a hand over his hair, quite as if he had no idea how alluring that action was, how utterly dashing he looked at the moment, and how unfair that was to any poor angels who happened to be nearby.

“Look, let’s head to Japan,” Crowley said. “You love the food there. We’ll go to the theater, take in some art exhibits, all right?” He gave Aziraphale a tentative smile.

“Your work is in Japan?”

Crowley faltered for a second, but then said, “Course it is. Lots of important demonic things to do in Japan, yes.”

Aziraphale turned a grieving eye back to the front. “That sounds nice,” he said quietly.

“And you know what,” Crowley spoke up, almost harshly cheerful, “on the way there, we’ll make a tour, find a few ships at sea and get them safely home, okay? You love that.”

_ I love you _, the angel thought, and of course, such a feeling, stilted and smothered as it was, still managed to create a clutch of marigolds in the woods, a soft spot of sunshine in the midst of war. “Thank you,” Aziraphale said quietly.

Crowley glanced at the marigolds, and a little smile played across his face. He always seemed to like it when Aziraphale manifested flowers. Of course, Crowley had no idea that every single blossom he’d ever seen spring up owed its existence to the fact that there was an angel in love with him.

Crowley glanced up toward the front. “I wish I could—”

“Neither of us can fix it, can we?” Aziraphale asked softly.

They made a tour of the sea. Crowley turned the cargoes of the ships rotten and explained to Hell that ensuring the ships’ survival after that negated any insurance claims they could have otherwise made. Aziraphale partially fixed the cargoes later, submitting a report to Heaven about thwarting demonic wiles. They took a week off together after that, making a tour of Japan, sampling its art, cuisine, and music. 

It was a tried and true dance in a long-standing relationship and it would be wrong of Aziraphale to want more. Wrong for many reasons (which, in no particular order, included the fact that Crowley didn’t love Aziraphale romantically, Crowley didn’t desire Aziraphale carnally, and, of course, the fact that if Crowley ever did come to lust after Aziraphale, an angel letting himself be quite willingly seduced by a demon could cause said angel to Fall). But nevertheless, what they had now was simply not enough for Aziraphale. 

The angel waited until he and Crowley had again parted ways to let his mind dwell on what more he did want, sitting alone in his room and imagining a few moments in paradise. Azirphale wanted Crowley in the woods, in the white breeches and red coat. With his hair in a curled scarlet queue, and his hands on Aziraphale’s arms, and Aziraphale backed against the tree again, and Crowley wanting _ him _ just as badly. Or at least, just wanting to please him. Aziraphale would see it in Crowley’s eyes, a look Aziraphale had learned by heart millennia ago, a willingness to indulge the angel. In reality, Aziraphale was careful with that look of Crowley’s, always afraid to push for more than the demon wanted to give. In the fantasy, Aziraphale would make demands.

_ Kiss me. _

Crowley would perform this favor with great pleasure, caging Aziraphale in against the tree and claiming his mouth. Maybe a little harshly, because he was angry, but still sweetly. It would last ages, just the kissing, until Aziraphale grew bold enough to twist his hands against Crowley’s buttons, to open his clothes and slide angelic hands against demonic skin. Until he found a way to give Crowley back some of the pleasure he was giving Aziraphale.

_ Let me. _

Maybe Crowley wouldn’t be hard, but Aziraphale could get him there, falling to his knees, and it would be wonderful, because in the fantasy, Aziraphale would somehow know what he was doing, despite the reality of the angel never having taken a lover before. 

It had been a mystery to Aziraphale for the first few millennia of his life, why he had never felt the urge to experience physical love with anyone. He was the Angel of Compassion, after all, a creation of love. The answer, of course, was that Aziraphale very much had been feeling and then immediately _suppressing_ the urge, because that desire involved only one particular someone. Someone forbidden by Heaven, someone who, in any case, would never return Aziraphale’s intense cravings. Things had definitely been easier for Aziraphale when these urges _were_ suppressed, but Aziraphale just wasn’t strong enough for that anymore, hadn’t been for hundreds of years now. He wasn’t able to resist what he was doing now, sitting on his bed and touching himself, pretending his desire belonged to two people instead of just one.

In the fantasy, Crowley would find Azriaphale’s attentions extremely pleasurable. The demon would moan and very much enjoy himself, and maybe put his hands in Aziraphale’s hair to guide him a little, and Aziraphale would get to taste him. To devour him, really, the poor demon, Aziraphale could finally let his hunger have its way. To take Crowley nearly to the edge—

Aziraphale slowed his hand on himself now, a little too close. He wanted to last for the full fantasy.

Before it was too late, Aziraphale would back off of Crowley’s arousal and ask another favor.

_ Take me. _

Now Crowley would focus his attentions on Aziraphale, and his pleasure. Despite how angry he was at Aziraphale for risking himself, Crowley would give the angel this, he would let them share this. Maybe Crowley would take him standing against the tree, lifting the angel’s legs around his waist. Or maybe Crowley would miracle a blanket and guide Aziraphale down to rest on the ground. Crowley would undress him, slowly, kissing every inch of flesh that he bared. Aziraphale could do the same for him, finally getting to explore the few parts of his best friend that had always been hidden from him.

And then Crowley would prepare him, and then Crowley would be inside of him. Crowley would take him, make love to him, _ want _ him. Crowley would kiss him, work his tongue in Aziraphale’s mouth as he worked his cock in Aziraphale’s body—Aziraphale was nearly there now, his hand moving on his own cock like Crowley would do, tight and sweet and warm—and as he climaxed, Aziraphale would gasp one last request.

_ Tell me. _

Aziraphale lay on his bed now, panting. He miracled away his mess and felt the sting of tears in his eyes. This was where the fantasy would break down, where all of them always did. Because it was easy to imagine asking Crowley to _ do _ things, but what Aziraphale wanted even more than that was for Crowley to _ feel _ things. But that wasn’t something someone could do as a favor. It wasn’t possible to fall in love because someone asked you to.

Crowley felt friendship for the angel. Sympathy. Anger, most certainly. Protectiveness.

But not love.

oOo

_ Present day _

Crowley kicked a rock with his foot, and watched it tumble down the gravelly slope to where there was an angel extricating himself from large pile of rocks and twisted metal. Above them, half a ruined train bridge hung in space. The other half was on top of Aziraphale.

Crowley strolled over and took a seat on a large boulder. He said, “Well.”

“This wasn’t supposed to be a big thing,” Aziraphale told him.

“Looks like rather a big thing to me. Looks like half a bridge.”

“Well, the train’s all right. I managed to get it across, even with the bridge damaged. It’s just that the whole thing was a little more unwieldy than I expected, and I couldn’t quite keep it all together after that. But I’m fine.” The angel pulled an arm free and frowned at it. Crowley watched a deep cut across the angel’s palm seal itself and disappear.

“I’m aware that you’re fine, Aziraphale. That’s why I’m not helping you.”

“You could help a little,” the angel suggested, gently raising his eyebrows in his usual adorable manner.

Crowley didn’t let himself fall for it this time. “You could have called me.”

Aziraphale’s voice fell quiet. “I honestly didn’t think I would need to. I’m sorry.”

Crowley made a little growling noise. “The thing about having rules, angel, is that there is a reason to have rules. No Guardian Angel work without _ your _ Guardian Angel is a rule that exists because my mental health depends on your physical health.”

Aziraphale looked genuinely remorseful, but he spoke lightly. “Yes, well, the thing about having rules, my love, is that only people with common sense follow rules. Which makes them quite useless to me.”

Crowley wanted to continue to growl at him for another few hours, but of course, his voice came out gently. “Apology accepted. Again. May not be next time,” he warned, unsure of whether Aziraphale would believe it. Unsure of whether Crowley himself believed it.

It still earned him a relieved smile. “You sure you can’t help me?" Aziraphale pulled his other arm free and Crowley watched it mend itself, re-aligning what looked like a couple of broken bones, bruises fading to nothing.

“No.”

Aziraphale gave a dramatic sigh and pressed a hand to his chest. “Oh, dear. How many fingers am I supposed to have?”

“Nineteen.”

“Ah, good, I think I’ve got them all, then.” The angel grinned at him.

Crowley just rolled his eyes. Aziraphale waved a hand and the rocks resting on his waist rolled away, followed by most of the ones that had covered his legs. It was only a moment longer before Aziraphale was more or less well again.

Obviously, losing a fight with a bridge would have killed most people, human or ethereal. But the Angel of Compassion had been created to heal, and so he had a natural resistance to injury, as well as the power to repair any wounds he did incur, and that power had only grown stronger after Aziraphale's transformation into the Guardian Angel of the Earth.

But there was a catch: Aziraphale had to use his angelic will to heal himself. If his corporation were knocked into some lasting unconscious state, or worse, he wouldn’t be able to bring himself back. Crowley might be able to wake him up. And he might not. Which was why Crowley had always put so much effort into preventing Aziraphale from being injured in the first place. But to do that, he had to _ be there _ when the angel was in danger.

In the past, Crowley could at least rely on the fact that Heaven would issue Aziraphale a new body if he got discorporated. At this point, though, that was extremely unlikely. And now that Aziraphale was the Guardian Angel of the Earth, he was getting ethereal messages about increasingly dangerous missions, which sometimes involved things like fighting Horsepeople, who could kill Aziraphale entirely, body and soul…

Safe to say that nothing about this new role of Aziraphale’s had done anything to stem the unending desperate terror that had burned in Crowley’s soul for the last 6000 years: the fear that he could lose his angel. In reality, the fear had gotten much worse.

Aziraphale was pushing on the last boulder that rested on his foot, and Crowley was so agitated that he stood up and helped him. When Crowley lifted the rock, Aziraphale tensed, and Crowley at first thought that it was because he’d caused the angel pain. But when he looked at Aziraphale, he swiftly looked away, a blush reddening his cheeks. And then when Crowley extended his hand, Aziraphale’s grip was a little shaky.

Aziraphale might be the Angel of Compassion, a being created to love. But Crowley was the Tempter of the Garden. He did know a little something about desire. 

He certainly knew when he was feeling it himself.

Instead of helping Aziraphale up, Crowley pulled the angel’s hand close so that he could examine it minutely, checking carefully over every finger. He began to count the fingers as he went, and when he reached _ five _ , Aziraphale dutifully, if somewhat hesitantly, gave Crowley his other hand. Crowley could see the relief on the angel’s face when he got to _ ten _ , but Crowley didn’t let him go at that point, moving right back to the first hand and continuing the count, slower and slower, with even closer attention to detail, until he reached _ nineteen _, being sure to end on the fourth finger of the left hand, the one that wore the ring of scarlet inset with black scales.

And then Crowley flicked his eyes down to Aziraphale’s face. The angel was very flushed. “I, um, I thought you weren’t helping me,” he said.

“Oh, you know I can’t stay mad at you, angel,” Crowley answered soothingly. He saw Aziraphale’s eyes focus sharply on him now, obviously realizing at this point that Crowley was up to something, and probably having a basic idea as to _ what _ , although he seemed a little confused about the _ why _.

Crowley abruptly pulled on Aziraphale’s hands and brought the angel to standing. Aziraphale took one step and then stumbled, grabbing onto Crowley’s arms for balance. “Hang on,” he said, looking down at his foot. “Ankle’s still off. One second—”

But he was leaning so heavily on Crowley that it was easy for the demon to deposit them both on a large rock and pull the angel’s leg into his lap. “Oh, you’ve done enough,” Crowley said tenderly. “Let me get this one.”

Aziraphale gave him a somewhat hesitant nod, and Crowley swept his fingers over the misbehaving ankle, gently bringing it back into its proper place. But he didn’t return the foot to the angel, instead busying his fingers on Aziraphale’s cream-colored trousers, brushing the dirt away, mending tears in the fabric.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley asked idly as his hands swept along the angel’s leg, “you wouldn’t happen to have a fantasy about me rescuing you, would you?”

“What?” Aziraphale blushed even harder. “Of course not.”

Crowley’s hands reached a spot of dirt on Aziraphale’s inner thigh. The angel tensed as Crowley ghosted a finger over it, but then rather than move higher on the angel’s leg, Crowley removed his hands altogether. Aziraphale gave a little shiver, which Crowley ignored, focusing instead on Aziraphale’s other leg, gently starting the same process there. “Because we’ve talked quite a bit about your fantasies and that’s never come up.”

“Well—”

“I mean, I’ve heard about the bookshop, of course, and my flat, and secluded picnics, vineyards in France, the Bentley—a personal favorite of mine,” he said to the angel’s increasingly flustered expression—“and then there have been quite a few different time periods that you’ve mentioned, ancient Egypt and Rome, Japan, the White City of the Chicago World's Fair, but never a word about any of the rescues that I performed of you over the ages. There have been quite a few of those, you know.”

“Yes, I—I know.”

Crowley stilled his hands and looked up at the angel. “But none of them took your fancy?”

“Took my—” Aziraphale’s face, which had been showing a lovely heat, fell a little now. “I...didn’t think you’d like it.”

Crowley laughed, which surprised the angel, and kept laughing as he realized that Aziraphale really did not understand why. He pulled his husband a little closer and let his hands begin to wander over his arms, fixing tears in his coat. “Oh, angel, you know how much I love your fantasies about us.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“So tell me, which was your favorite?”

“Which what?” Aziraphale gasped a little as Crowley’s hands moved over his chest to mend his shirt.

“The rescue that you fantasized about the most. I bet it was the Bastille.”

Aziraphale frowned at him. “It was not the Bastille.”

Crowley grinned as he brushed a bit of rock dust from Aziraphale’s forehead. “It was the Bastille for me.”

Aziraphale’s eyes opened wide and then fluttered closed as Crowley moved the hand to his cheek.

“You have absolutely no idea,” Crowley said softly, sliding his hand beneath the angel’s jaw, “what you looked like in all that lace.”

“Oh, for—” Aziraphale whispered.

“And handcuffs.” Crowley wasn’t sure how he expected Aziraphale to react to this revelation, but he was very pleasantly surprised when the angel’s skin flushed even redder and his breath hitched. Crowley bit back a groan.

“You—” Aziraphale’s voice was light and shaky now. “_ You _ fantasized—”

Crowley answered this one very carefully, following the steps of the temptation as they lay before him. “Well, I did rescue you a lot, you know.” His hand slipped behind Aziraphale’s head to massage the nape of his neck. Aziraphale let out a tiny but very lovely moan. “I always did kind of think it would be nice to...get a reward.”

Aziraphale’s eyes flew open. “A reward?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Crowley leaned in to brush his mouth against the angel’s neck, and Aziraphale whimpered. “I mean you rewarded me quite nicely this morning for making you breakfast. And it makes me think, if I get _ that _ for making pancakes, what might I get for saving your life?”

“You didn’t save my life,” Aziraphale objected. “I'm fine.”

“Today. I’ve saved it the past though. Last week, for example. Missouri? Flash flooding? Floating SUV?”

“That was a miscalculation.”

Crowley smiled at him, brushing his hand over Aziraphale’s head, using one last miracle to clear all the dust from his soft curly hair, leaving it a white-blond cloud once more. The flash flood hadn’t actually been that close of a call, because Crowley had been right beside Aziraphale through the whole mission. But if he hadn’t been, if Aziraphale had decided to do that one on his own—

With the benefit of a great amount of practice, Crowley trained his focus away from his fears and back onto the angel in front of him, alive and warm. “So which one?” he asked.

Aziraphale mustered up a very displeased look, but super-powered Guardian Angel of the Earth or not, one thing that Aziraphale was not strong enough to fight was a temptation performed by his husband to any kind of sensual pleasure. “Brandywine,” he confessed.

Crowley grinned at him. “The American Revolutionary War? Really?”

Aziraphale flicked his eyes away as he said quickly, “You were very handsome in uniform.”

“Was I now?” Crowley asked, quite smugly. “Which uniform was I wearing? I don’t remember.”

“Ah, well, both, actually. You changed back and forth a bit. But—” Aziraphale was unable not to smile at him now. “I liked the red best.”

“And you were being a chaplain, if I recall. To both sides. Switching uniforms yourself.”

“Yes.”

“Running back and forth to the _ front _.”

“They needed me.”

“Oh, don't worry, angel. I’m aware that it's your nature to be an idiot for a good cause. Why do you think I was there?”

“Yes, you were very angry with me.”

Crowley’s voice fell soft. “Because I was in love with you, Aziraphale.” He couldn’t help but add, “I still am,” although he wasn’t sure the angel would understand all that he meant by that.

Aziraphale gave him a lovely, though hesitant smile. “I know. But I don’t see why you would fantasize about something where I just make you mad.”

“Angel,” Crowley groaned, bringing his hands down to grasp Aziraphale’s arms, “because rescuing you doesn’t _ only _ make me mad.”

Aziraphale looked at him for a moment with his mouth open and then said, very lightly, “_ Oh _.”

“_ Oh _,” Crowley repeated. He slid his fingers over Aziraphale’s wrists and felt the angel’s pulse racing. The feeling of Aziraphale’s arousal was more potent than any substance Crowley had ever sampled, and he felt a little dizzy with it. “So what was your fantasy about Brandywine?” he asked.

“You want to talk about this now?”

Crowley tightened his hands on the angel’s wrists. “_ Right now _, Aziraphale.”

“You—you don’t want to do yours?”

“Oh, we will do mine, believe me. Assuming you’re amenable.”

Aziraphale fidgeted a little, dropping Crowley’s eyes. “Ah, yes, I...yes, I would be.”

Crowley was unable to suppress another groan at the thought of once more seeing all that lace. Of getting his hands on it. “But right now I want to hear more about Brandywine.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So, you did what I asked you to, and—and that was the fantasy,” Aziraphale finished in a rush. Normally explaining this sort of thing to Crowley was a lot more fun. But this time, he could pick up on warring emotions in his husband, and he wasn’t entirely sure what they were.

Crowley cocked his head at him curiously. “But I never asked for a reward? _ Ever _ in all these scenarios of yours?”

Aziraphale frowned. “Well, you enjoyed yourself, of course, but—it didn’t really occur to me at the time that I had something that you might want.”

Crowley let out a sudden groan. He removed his sunglasses and ran a hand over his face. “Oh, _ angel. _” He pulled Aziraphale closer in one fluid, serpentine movement, until he was fully in Crowley’s lap. “Let me take over, will you? I did have this one myself, you know. I’ve had all of them.”

Aziraphale was trembling a little and he grabbed onto Crowley’s shoulders for support. “You have?”

“Are you serious? A beautiful angel in distress and you think I can sweep in and rescue him without thinking—” Crowley groaned again. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

Crowley gave him such a fond, loving look that Aziraphale was seized by a delightful shiver, and he pressed into Crowley’s shoulder for stability. “Just—let me take over,” Crowley murmured. But he followed it with, “_ Now _.”

Aziraphale managed to nod, and then suddenly he was on his feet and backed against a broad tree trunk, Crowley’s arms on either side of his head, caging him in. Somehow they were in a place that had tree trunks, some sort of forest then, but that didn’t actually matter as much as the fact that Crowley was dressed in the British uniform again—white breeches, black boots, scarlet coat and gold braid on the shoulders, and his sunglasses were missing. Aziraphale dimly realized that he was wearing something blue, but at this point, if someone had asked Aziraphale how to pronounce his own name, the angel would have had no idea. The only thing in the universe was Crowley.

“So, angel,” the demon said, with a dark heat in his words, “saved your life. Again.”

“Yes, I, um—thank you?”

“Had to interrupt what I was doing to come over here and get you out of trouble. Again.”

Aziraphale felt a twinge of anxiety. “You see, you just sound angry with me—”

Crowley shoved him roughly back against the tree and then snapped his hips forward to bring his body flush with the angel’s. Aziraphale gasped to feel the hard length of Crowley’s cock press into his thigh. This was not how Aziraphale’s fantasy had gone. Crowley was already aching for him, no need for Aziraphale to get him there. The angel made some sort of embarrassing squeaking noise.

“Do you know what I think?” Crowley asked. “I think that after all these times rescuing you that you owe me—” he leaned in close to Aziraphale but maddeningly, did not kiss him—“a reward.”

“Well, I—” Aziraphale gazed at Crowley with a sort of awe. “What do you want?”

Crowley gave him a rather demonic grin, the vertical pupils of his golden eyes expanding in interest. “Let me tempt you a little?”

“Oh, my love, anything,” Aziraphale breathed.

Crowley’s facade broke for just a second, and he looked almost concerned, but before Aziraphale could ask about it, Crowley grabbed him by his blue coat and brought their mouths together. Crowley licked his tongue against Aziraphale’s lips and Aziraphale gave into it instantly, opening his mouth, melting into Crowley’s arms, surrendering completely. Crowley groaned and pulled back, meeting the surprised angel’s eyes. “You would have, wouldn’t you?” he whispered. “Just like this.”

“Have what?”

Crowley traced his fingers down Aziraphale’s jaw, and the angel leaned into the touch. “I always fantasized that you’d be willing, but _ this _—” Crowley drew in a shaky breath. “If I’d actually kissed you at Brandywine. Ever. If we’d been brave enough, here, anywhere, in the prison cell, even in the handcuffs, you’d have done exactly this, wouldn’t you? A little token resistance, sure, but all those times, you really would have—”

“Oh. Well.” Aziraphale gave him a half smile, running a hand against Crowley’s red coat. “It would never have been too difficult for you to tempt me, I’m afraid.”

Crowley’s hands slid over the blue coat to find its lapels again. And then he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Aziraphale's cheek, tracing a line down his jaw. “Or you me, angel,” he said softly, thankfully not sounding in the least bit angry now. “You have no idea what _ you _ look like in uniform." While Crowley was talking, his fingers began to busy themselves at the buttons of Aziraphale’s coat, and then the vest beneath it. “They didn’t have a chaplain’s symbol back then, but you wore little angel wings on your sleeve.” He lifted Aziraphale’s right hand so that the angel could see the insignia just above his cuff.

“You remember that?” Aziraphale asked in surprise.

Crowley gave a small laugh. “Aziraphale, I have been living on these fantasies for 6000 years.”

Aziraphale shivered as Crowley went back to undoing buttons. “You don’t know what it does to me to see you like you were at Brandywine, following your heart, operating completely on love, right in the middle of a war. It made you look so..._ angelic _." He had Aziraphale's shirt and coat open now and pushed him lightly back against the tree again, causing Aziraphale to gasp. Crowley stepped forward, pressing himself against Aziraphale as if he couldn’t bear to be farther away.

"I am an angel," Aziraphale reminded him in a shaky voice, as if Crowley might be unaware.

Crowley flashed him an amused look. "Good. Because I think I deserve a little angelic attention myself." He started to trace a finger over Aziraphale’s bare chest, looking over the angel with such undisguised hunger that Aziraphale felt dizzy.

In reality, that look would have been more than enough motivation for Aziraphale to throw himself into Crowley’s arms (not that he wasn’t already pretty much there) and fully encourage his attentions, wherever they might lead. And, of course, that was exactly what Aziraphale was planning to do here. But this wasn’t Aziraphale’s fantasy. For the first time, he reminded himself, it was Crowley’s.

Aziraphale found his voice. “Did you—did you want a little _ token resistance_?”

Crowley’s eyes widened and he stilled his hands. And then he laughed softly. “You wouldn’t have,” he said. “Would you? At all.”

“Did I ever? In Frankfurt? In my bookshop, after I summoned Death?” Of course, that was another time when Crowley had been supremely angry with Aziraphale for risking himself, and the angel felt that memory like cold water over his shoulders.

But Crowley just smiled at him, and the smile slowly grew more heated, as his eyes traveled over every inch of Aziraphale’s body. “If you had, I would have worn you down, angel. I was so gone in Frankfurt, if you’d looked at me like you are now, and then hadn’t let me kiss you—I would have tried anything, most serious temptation of my life. I would have found a way to make me seem as irresistible to you as you have always been to me.”

“_Well_,” Aziraphale breathed, somewhat surprised that he was able to form words at the moment, “seems a shame to waste all that planning.”

Crowley’s eyebrows lifted just for a second, and then Aziraphale could see him trying to swallow a smile. Crowley grasped his hands gently. “Angel, you remember we talked about safe words? If you want this game to stop, say the word _ bicycle_, all right? I’ll ignore _ no_, but _ bicycle _ means you want to take a break.”

“Oh! Yes, all right.”

Crowley made a _ go-ahead _gesture with his hand. “Resist, then.”

Aziraphale steadied himself. “No,” he said primly. “I don’t think I will give you a reward. It’s not, ah, proper, for you to ask for such a thing.” Aziraphale’s heart was pounding and he realized that he was desperately looking forward to seeing what Crowley would do to convince him.

What Crowley did was to take a step back. Aziraphale immediately clutched at him.

The demon gave an entirely too delighted laugh. Aziraphale huffed at him and shoved him lightly away.

Crowley’s face lit up with a smile that was probably supposed to look predatory or something, but instead was the same one Crowley nearly always gave him, which was fond and so loving that it sometimes made Aziraphale manifest flowers when he saw it. The angel stubbornly resisted the flowers, crossed his arms over his chest, and stepped away from the tree so that he could no longer be pushed into it. “No.”

Crowley stood there for a second, and then he started walking a circle around Aziraphale. When Crowley had first gotten into this habit, thousands of years ago, Aziraphale hadn’t understood why. It almost seemed like it could be a snake thing, Crowley (hopefully mostly) unconsciously sizing up Aziraphale like the angel was something he might want to eat. But that had never seemed quite right, because Crowley had never felt threatening to Aziraphale, not once, not from the beginning, despite his being a demon.

And then one day Aziraphale had let himself actually watch Crowley circle, instead of averting his eyes and trying not to blush, and he realized that Crowley wasn’t even looking at him. He was sizing up the room and everyone in it, shooting predatory glances _ away _ from the angel. Aziraphale had never been prey. Crowley was protecting him.

Aziraphale was the only being in creation who had ever been truly kind to Crowley. The angel’s presence created a place—probably the only place—where Crowley felt safe himself.

Of course, the kind of circle that Crowley was making now was a little different. Aziraphale had seen this one a few times in the past six months since they’d come together, a circuit where Crowley was most definitely looking at him, drinking him in from every angle. As if the angel _ were _ prey, in one particular, extremely pleasureful sense.

Aziraphale loved all of Crowley’s circling, but this one tended to give him the shivers. He fought back against them, but he could tell by Crowley’s low, quiet laugh that he was not successful.

“It’s a very simple thing,” the demon explained, in a husky murmur. “An even trade. I do something for you, and you do something for me. I use my demonic powers to rescue you and you give me a couple of minutes alone with just you...” Behind the angel now, Crowley traced a finger over his shoulder of his blue coat. “...me...” The finger traveled down his arm as Crowley kept circling. “...and a little demonic temptation.” In front of Aziraphale now, his finger traced a maddening pattern on the back of the angel’s hand, the touch so light but somehow commanding.

Aziraphale thought he might just fall over. Crowley had never tried to tempt him into bed before. Obviously, he’d never had to. This was—this was perhaps more than the Angel of Compassion could take.

Which was why there were suddenly roses everywhere. “Oh, Hell,” Aziraphale muttered. “Pretend you didn’t see those.” He waved a hand to cloak them and realized Crowley was looking away, his shoulders shaking a bit, no doubt with suppressed laughter.

“You,” Aziraphale said, in what he hoped was a cool and dignified tone, “are not tempting in the slightest.”

Crowley looked back at him and raised a crimson eyebrow. “No? Well, that may be.” He crowded a little closer to the angel, and Aziraphale had the tree at his back again before he realized it. “But _ you _,” Crowley said softly, “are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Angel of Compassion. All the beauty of the world lives within you.” Crowley pressed a slow kiss to his forehead. “I created stars before I met you, and yet each one of them looked exactly like you. The pull of you is inescapable.”

Crowley fisted his hands in Aziraphale’s coat and pressed him gently back against the tree. His golden eyes blazed into Aziraphale. “I know that you want this, angel, I know you want me, but I _ need _ you.”

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale breathed.

Crowley caught onto the change in Aziraphale’s tone, and he softened his grip on Aziraphale’s coat. “I’m sorry. Did I—did you want to stop?”

“No. Yes. Crowley—” Regret hung heavily on Aziraphale. “Oh, my love. That’s why you’re angry, isn’t it?”

Crowley was still holding Aziraphale so closely that he could have kissed him easily, but instead he was just looking at him warily. “What’s why?”

“Because I do owe you.” When Crowley started to protest, Aziraphale shushed him. “No, no, not a reward. Although to be fair, probably also a reward, a great many rewards, but this is something that should be yours by rights. It’s just—” Aziraphale felt the sting of tears in his eyes as he tried to explain. “I wanted to do things on my own, because I didn’t want to be a bother, to have my life take over yours. But I suppose it was too late for that a long time ago, wasn’t it?”

Crowley was still looking at him in concern, but he smiled. “Millennia ago, angel.”

“I’m so sorry.” Aziraphale grasped at Crowley’s hands, catching them up with his own. “But I give it to you now. My word as a Guardian. My word as your spouse. I won’t chance leaving you alone. Not ever again. No matter how small the task. No more coming from afar to rescue me, you can watch me get into trouble right in front of you.”

Crowley had gone still, and then Aziraphale could just see the hint of tears in his eyes as well. “Do you mean that?” he asked.

“I promise it. I’m so sorry—”

He was in Crowley’s arms then, warm and _ safe _ . “It’s all right,” Crowley whispered against Aziraphale’s hair. “I know you never meant to. You just scared me so much. Please, angel, don’t ever do that again.” He kissed Aziraphale’s forehead, holding onto the angel a little more tightly than Aziraphale was used to, which was _ quite _ a lovely feeling. “I just need you,” Crowley breathed. “I’ve always needed you, Aziraphale, needed to have you and—” His grip tightened even more. “I need you to be with me. I need you to belong to me. I lost all the stars, I lost everything, and I don’t care, not as long as I have you. As long as you are the one thing that is _ mine_.”

Aziraphale could barely breathe, but he managed to say, “I am, my love. Completely. I have been from the beginning, and I will be forever.”

Crowley’s voice was pained, but he didn’t relax his grip. “You don’t owe me that.”

“Of course not.” Aziraphale realized that he had started to manifest angelic heat as he luxuriated in this intense embrace, and that he was warming the demon who held him. Crowley let out a little groan and pressed himself even more closely into it.

“Being yours is exactly what I want,” Aziraphale whispered. “You have always been exactly what I want.” Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the demon’s neck, just under his jaw. “And oh, my love, I would really like to give you a reward. For all the times you’ve been there when _ I _ needed _ you_.”

Crowley relaxed his arms enough for Aziraphale to take in a deep breath. “Are you sure? We don’t have to keep playing the game, I don’t mind if we don’t.”

Aziraphale laughed as he tugged a hand free and waved it, uncloaking the flowers that had appeared on the forest floor. Both the original ones and the thousands of others that had followed them. Crowley’s eyes widened as he took in what was now a rather raucous wooded garden. And then he laughed.

“That’s rather impolite,” Aziraphale informed him.

Crowley grinned. “Oh, can’t have an impolite demon, can we? My apologies.”

Crowley held him a moment longer, soaking in Aziraphale’s heat, and then he finally stepped back, leaving the angel quite pleasantly rumpled. He met Aziraphale’s eyes for a moment, and the angel simply nodded at him, answering the question yet again.

_ Yes, I am yours. And I’ll never risk leaving you again. _

Crowley still seemed a little shaky, but he raised his arms in a lazy stretch, which made the scarlet coat strain around his broad shoulders. It also lifted the skirt of the coat to reveal—well, everything the tight breeches did not conceal.

Aziraphale made that darn squeaking noise again.

Crowley smiled, adjusting his coat rather absent-mindedly. “Well, where were we? Oh, yes. I reminded you that I’ve saved your life more than a few times, and you were quite ungrateful.”

“I’m very grateful,” Aziraphale protested.

“But not enough to let me have you.”

Aziraphale managed to say, in a voice that had suddenly gone quite husky, “Well, you see, that—would be inappropriate.”

Crowley tsked at him. “Impolite and inappropriate. Deadly sins, both.”

Aziraphale frowned at him.

Crowley shrugged. “I mean, it seems logical enough to me. Just a favor for a favor. And you know, I get the feeling that you might very much enjoy doing me a favor.”

“I—”

“Let’s start small, all right?” Crowley walked closer with that infernal swaying motion to his hips (as always, the flowers liked Crowley enough to move themselves out of his path). He took hold of Aziraphale’s coat. “You look a little overheated, angel. Let’s get this off.”

Before Aziraphale could get a protest out, Crowley had his coat, vest, and shirt gone, and the angel was bare to the waist. Despite having been too warm, Aziraphale shivered a little as the clothes vanished, and Crowley paused, waiting to be sure Aziraphale had adjusted his angelic temperature to what was comfortable for him.

That small caring gesture, of course, did far more to weaken Aziraphale’s resistance than the whole being-half-naked thing. Aziraphale cleared his throat and quite without meaning to, said, “You—you look a little overheated yourself.”

Crowley’s mouth twisted with a touch of amusement. “You know, I think you might be right.” He slowly unbuttoned his red coat and then slipped it off of his shoulders. 

Oh, _ Heaven _, the sight of Crowley in just a white shirt, vest, and breeches. The demon so rarely wore white, and he was absolutely glorious this way, a bright star in the dark woods, his scarlet hair almost shining like flame.

Crowley must have seen some of that admiration on Aziraphale’s face, because his hands stilled on his vest buttons. Instead of disrobing further, he turned to lay his coat over a tree branch, and then Aziraphale got a very good view of what those breeches did for Crowley’s rear end.

Despite his best intentions at lasting out the temptation, Aziraphale’s breeches rather quickly became too tight, and he had no coat left to cover that evidence. When Crowley turned back around, he flicked his gaze from Aziraphale’s crotch to his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Angel,” he said in a soothing tone, “that looks uncomfortable. Why don’t we get those off as well?”

Aziraphale stammered as Crowley came near again. “I don’t think that would be—” He lost his train of thought as Crowley’s fingers reached the fastenings of his trousers. Aziraphale shuddered, and somehow his forehead was resting on Crowley’s shoulder as the demon freed his arousal. In an instant, Aziraphale’s cock went from unpleasantly confined to being cradled in the warmth of Crowley’s hand.

Understandably, Aziraphale’s knees went rather weak, but Crowley quickly had his other arm beneath Aziraphale’s shoulders, supporting him, bringing him in to lean completely against his own body. “There you are, angel, I’ve got you.” He stroked Aziraphale’s cock gently. “I tell you what, why don’t you let me do you one more favor and then we’ll see how you feel about returning it, all right?”

It took a great deal of effort for Aziraphale to answer, and when he finally managed it, he had no strength left over to resist any longer. “Yes,” he whispered. “Crowley, please—”

At the sign of surrender, Crowley immediately pulled Aziraphale into his arms, his hands framing the angel’s face as he brought Aziraphale’s mouth gently beneath his own. The kiss was everything that Aziraphale had been needing and he relaxed and delighted in it, the campfire-smoke scent of Crowley so close, the pressure of his embrace, the way the demon continued to soak up the angelic heat that Aziraphale’s body gave him through his white clothing.

Crowley spent quite a while kissing Aziraphale’s mouth, and then he moved down to trace kisses against the angel’s neck and shoulder. He hummed against Aziraphale’s collarbone. “You taste divine. Guess that makes sense.”

“Nonsense,” Aziraphale chided warmly, stroking a hand through Crowley’s scarlet hair, tugging it out of its curled queue.

Crowley grinned up at him. “Mmm, I disagree. Might need more evidence, though.” Crowley gently pressed Aziraphale back against the tree, and when he had made sure that the angel was stable, he went down to his knees in front of him. The flowers didn’t move away, then, they crowded beneath Crowley to keep his white breeches out of the dirt. Crowley huffed in amusement, but it was lost against Aziraphale’s stomach.

Aziraphale braced himself against the tree and kept a hand in Crowley’s hair as well. He’d mostly learned not to pull too hard when Crowley was kneeling for him this way, but if he forgot, Crowley didn’t seem to mind too much. Aziraphale gasped as Crowley began to kiss his cock, to tongue against it, sending a bright flame of pleasure through the angel.

“You taste heavenly here, too,” Crowley murmured, but Aziraphale was beyond answering him now. 

Crowley had learned Aziraphale’s preferences for when Crowley brought him off this way, and Crowley had laughingly described it once as _ A little bit of everything, like you’re at a buffet, angel _. So now, Crowley kept his attentions varied and ever-changing, kissing, licking, humming, a little bit of massaging with fingers, a moment of suction followed by light teasing of the head.

Aziraphale never lasted long. Neither of them expected him to. Crowley could tell when the angel got close, and he always made sure to have Aziraphale come into his mouth, at the last moment deferring to the demon’s own preference. Aziraphale, of course, did not object to this in the slightest.

When the wet heat of Crowley’s mouth had relieved the angel of his aches, he pulled off and smiled up at Aziraphale. “Feel like doing me a favor now?” he asked.

Aziraphale managed to nod, and then there was a blanket on the ground, and Crowley drew him down to it. Crowley tucked Aziraphale beneath him and kissed him for a while, a kind of soft, open kissing with quite a lot of interesting activity from Crowley’s serpentine tongue. The angel could feel the hard length of Crowley’s cock press against his hip, and although Aziraphale’s hands had found themselves quite stuck to Crowley’s ass in those breeches, Crowley seemed to be unconcerned about himself. When he was done with Aziraphale’s mouth for the moment, he focused on kissing a line down Aziraphale’s bare chest, and then started to tug the angel’s breeches away.

“I thought—” Aziraphale gasped as Crowley’s mouth pressed along his half-softened cock, “I thought you wanted me to—”

Crowley came back up to lean over Aziraphale. “You surrendered, angel. That means I get to do whatever I like.” He gave Aziraphale a soft smile. “Unless you say _ bicycle _,” he reminded him.

“Oh, yes. Right,” Aziraphale gasped, and then he got distracted again as Crowley went back to what he had been doing before. The angel suddenly found himself naked beneath a still-mostly-clothed demon.

That was not the way that their lovemaking normally progressed. Crowley had always followed Aziraphale’s desires before, and that meant that Crowley was usually the first to lose all of his clothes. This—this was something new. Aziraphale’s nude body shivered with want, and Crowley pulled him close as if the angel needed warming. Aziraphale’s cock hardened due to Crowley’s attention, but then the demon neglected it, moving away to gently kiss the palm of the angel’s hand or the inside of his knee instead.

This wasn’t just making love, and despite what the demon had said, it definitely wasn’t Crowley simply taking his pleasure. This was still a _ seduction _.

Aziraphale moaned out what was probably a plea for something, but Crowley just made a little growling noise, pulling back to study Aziraphale as if the angel were something delicious to eat. “I want my full angelic reward,” he said, and with him still wearing the uniform it came out as a command. “Turn on your glow for me.”

Aziraphale underwent a full body shiver, but he complied, and watched Crowley’s eyes as they widened, the black pupils contracting against the angelic light.

“_Magnificent_,” Crowley whispered. “Oh, you have no idea, the picture you make, angel. I can’t believe I’m finally here with you, like this, except—” His voice broke a little. “Except now you’re wearing my ring.”

Aziraphale put his arms up and drew Crowley down to kiss him, but Crowley didn’t stay long, seeming seized with a kind of urgency that Aziraphale hadn’t seen before. He worshiped Aziraphale with his mouth, every ticklish or sensitive spot he knew the angel had, all the way down to his cock and beyond, biting down softly into the flesh of his ass. And then Crowley’s long fingers were drawing him apart and Crowley was licking against Aziraphale’s entrance. A moment later Crowley was sliding a finger inside of him, then two. This part was going a lot more quickly than usual, and it was just slightly on the edge of uncomfortable until Crowley moved his fingers in a way that made the angel gasp with pleasure.

And then abruptly, Crowley moved away. Aziraphale made some protest, but Crowley was coming up to look into his face again. “I want—” he started, and Aziraphale could see some hesitation. He nodded to encourage Crowley, and he went on. “I want to be rougher with you. Just a little. Won’t hurt, but—we usually take this fairly slow, and I—”

Aziraphale reached between them to finally palm against Crowley’s cock where it pressed, huge and hard, against his breeches. Crowley groaned loudly, and then Aziraphale had the fastenings undone and he was stroking Crowley, his hand immediately slick with the pre-come already coating the shaft. Crowley gasped and a shudder worked through his whole body.

“Please,” Aziraphale whispered. “Please, Crowley, anything you like. I’ll tell you if it’s too much, I promise.”

With a growl, Crowley pulled away from Aziraphale’s grasp, and then he was naked above him, and his hands were at Aziraphale’s thighs, pressing them up against his chest. And then Crowley’s cock was pushing inside, smoothly but insistently.

Crowley grasped Aziraphale at the waist and set up a hard pace, right from the beginning. It didn’t hurt, but it was so intense that the angel couldn’t quite catch his breath at first. But when Crowley shifted enough that his cock moved over Aziraphale’s prostate with every thrust, the angel suddenly found himself breathing well enough to make a great deal of quite pleasureful noise.

The pace, the sounds Aziraphale was making seemed to drive Crowley a little more wild, and he paused to slip Aziraphale’s thighs up over his shoulders. Aziraphale’s cock was caught between them, and it was everything the angel could do to hold on against the feeling of being completely wrapped up with Crowley’s body. Of being here with him in the forest, like he'd imagined, but so much better. This was not a favor. Aziraphale was truly wanted. And he was being claimed.

Crowley’s eyes above his were pure golden fire, dark with pleasure and an intense possessiveness. Aziraphale let himself surrender to it, to allow Crowley to treat him as if Aziraphale's love was a reward that he'd been hungering for since the first time he'd stepped between the angel and something threatening. Understanding now how desperately the demon had needed to keep safe the only beautiful thing he'd ever had. 

Knowing why having to rescue Aziraphale didn’t _ only _make Crowley angry.

When Crowley's hips began to stutter, Aziraphale clung to him, returning them to that overly tight embrace. “You have me," Aziraphale whispered. “You have me. I’m yours, I love you.”

Crowley gave a broken cry and came, spurting into Aziraphale’s body, and with that, Aziraphale let himself go (which was never difficult for him to do), and he came between them. As his body clenched around Crowley’s cock, the demon worked against him with little thrusts, still pulsing, still groaning out his pleasure. Then Crowley relaxed his grip on Aziraphale’s thighs and let his body come down to drape over the angel’s.

“Fuck, Aziraphale,” he gasped. “What you do to me.”

Aziraphale collapsed a little more onto the blanket, and Crowley moved off of him, lying down and pulling the angel into his arms. 

“Was that right?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley laughed. “Angel, everything with you is right.” Crowley pulled Aziraphale closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I wasn’t too rough?”

“Oh, no. I would have told you.” He sighed and snuggled closer, and Crowley ran his hands lightly over Aziraphale’s arms, perhaps just a little of the seduction still ongoing. Aziraphale let his eyes drift closed for a moment and when he opened them again, they were curled up in Aziraphale’s bed at the bookshop, which was certainly more comfortable than a blanket on the ground, even if the flowers had been helping to cushion them.

Crowley pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead, and quite without the angel prompting him, he seemed to know what the last part of Aziraphale’s fantasy had been, the ending that Aziraphale had once thought out of reach.

_ Tell me. _

“I adore you, you know,” Crowley said softly. “And I belong to you. I’m just still not sure how the universe has somehow allowed you to belong to me.”

Aziraphale started laughing, and Crowley stilled his hands. “That’s rather impolite.”

Aziraphale pushed himself up to look into Crowley’s beautiful golden eyes. “Crowley, my love. You have the strongest, purest, most selfless heart in all creation.” He traced a hand along Crowley’s cheek. “Being loved is what you deserve.”

**Author's Note:**

> So technically, this fic ended up being more about Crowley's rescue kink, but I think we won't complain. 
> 
> This fic ties up the second of three loose ends left after "Stranger in Paradise": the boys (looking at you, Aziraphale) learn to work together as a team.
> 
> [Battle of Brandywine](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Brandywine)  
[Chicago World's Fair](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World%27s_Columbian_Exposition)  
If any artists are interested, here is the site I used for the [Revolutionary War uniforms](https://historyofmassachusetts.org/uniforms-revolutionary-war-soldiers/)  
  
The series is now completed, so please check out the last work! Thanks so much for reading, and please feel free to check out my other Good Omens fics. Comments and kudos are so appreciated!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [HolyCatsAndRabbits](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/holycatsandrabbits)  
Twitter [@DannyeChase](https://twitter.com/DannyeChase)  
Facebook [Dannye Chase](https://facebook.com/DannyeChase)  
and Instagram [dannye_chase](https://www.instagram.com/dannye_chase/)


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